


our screenplay

by lais



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Awkward Romance, Bittersweet Ending, Cute, Idiots in Love, M/M, NOSERIOUSLYHEISALOSER, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, hwangminhyun, letsgomomo, minhyunisaCOMPLETEloser, ongseongwu, wannaone - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 04:23:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17196452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lais/pseuds/lais
Summary: his only friend is his cat. his diet strictly consists of black coffee and toast with blackberry jam. he's hwang minhyun; a once world-renounced composer who found out that he was losing his hearing five years ago, and currently lives the life of a hermit.ong seongwu can change that.(composer!minhyun and actor!seongwu)





	1. intro

"Life itself is a frightening image for every human being...being strong in life isn't easy."

\- Miroku, _Inuyasha_

 

 

* * *

 

Five years ago, if you asked someone who Hwang Minhyun was, they would have turned around and looked at you incredulously.

 

 _“You don’t know Hwang Minhyun? As in,_ **_the_ ** _Hwang Minhyun?” they would ask, shocked by the idea of it, waiting for you to burst into laughter and reassure them that you_ **_do_ ** _know who he is._

 

_If you continued to look confused, they’d sigh, pull up some popular song, and ask you if you recognized it. 99 out of 100 times, people would know the familiar tune, and that’s when they’d beam and say, “Hwang Minhyun composed that.”_

  

It was 2 months ago that he was offered the job as director of an upcoming drama, and the dollar signs aside, control of cast, writing, and music was like a cherry on top. Jisung had been homesick for years by then, and it was as though the heavens had given him the little push he had been waiting for, and he had packed his bags and hopped on a plane as soon as he could.

 

It’s been a long time since he’s walked along the streets of Seoul, far too long, really. Ten years of studying film production and building a name for himself in Canada meant ten years from home, and although Canada is a place he will always hold near and dear, it is Korea that his heart longs for, and he would be damned if he didn’t listen to his heart every now and then.

 

(Heart and soul is what makes a good director, no?)

 

If there is one thing Jisung doesn’t miss about Korea, though, it’s the cold.

 

Winter hits South Korea hard—a blanket of snow falls over the city, painting a picture of white under the blue sky, and people hustle about in their large winter coats. Street vendors call out, promising hearty broth and warm snacks to ward off the cold, and Yoon Jisung sighs as he trudges through the cold morning air, grumbling under his breath as he hikes his scarf up a little higher.

 

He glances idly at the different stores that are currently open (which aren’t very many), but his eyes are drawn to a small cafe that stands at the corner of two streets.  Its small doors are open, the scent of fresh baked goods wafts out into the cold winter air, the scent of freshly baked goods wafts out into the cold streets from the small open doors. As he approaches the cafe, the cursive reads “The Little Cauldron,” and he walks right in.

 

He’s greeted by a cozy atmosphere, little table and chairs are scattered throughout, and a small fireplace in the center merrily crackles along. A waiter pops up from behind the counter.

 

The waiter has freshly dyed blonde hair and was decked in a dark green apron, contrasting with his white button down shirt. The gold name pin on his right says that his name was “Daehwi.” ‘Daehwi smiles at Jisungs as he squints at the menu..

 

“Welcome to The Little Cauldron! What can I get you?”

 

Jisung takes a moment to look up from the menu to pick from the impressive selection of pastries that presented behind the glass, but a simple one catches his eyes.

 

“A cranberry scone, please. And a vanilla latte.”

 

Jisung seats himself by the window, and takes off his coat. He pulls out his scripts and notebook. He stares at the paper unenthusiastically, scrunching his eyebrows as he reads the lines. He planned on going through everything today one last time before filming officially starts.  Daehwi quickly comes back with his food, before giving Jisung a slight bow and leaving.

 

He traces a small circle with his fingers onto the cafe windows through the frost. The mellow jazz music dances around the empty cafe, and Jisung silently thanks himself for being an early riser — he’s the only one in the store and it helps him think. He skims through the rough draft of the scenes that he finds terribly out of touch, frowning as he brings the mug to his lips. There was something missing.

 

Jisung gives it some thought. They have a decent cast; he handpicked the actors and actresses, The staff were all highly coveted specialists in their field, But there was a key element that felt like it wasn’t there, and he finally put a finger onto it.

 

He then realizes something. The keypoint to every game, movie, show, or anything that was considered entertainment -

 

He was missing music.

 

Many of Jisung’s fellow colleagues argued that music is superficial for a seasonal drama and that is doesn’t matter to a scene overall, but Jisung thinks otherwise. He believes that a scene is nothing without the music; he knows that the music ties all of the emotions together, and what is a scene without any emotion?

 

Also, he _hates_ half-assing things, so that option was already out.

 

Ripping a sheet from his notepad, he instantly starts listing a few songs that could be his potential candidates. If he can’t find a composer, he’d have to improvise with current songs.

 

_Downpour by IOI._

 

_Sorry by The Rose._

 

_She Will Be Loved by Maroon 5._

 

_Goodbye Winter by Day6._

 

He wrote all the options down, staring at the list, but nothing seems to stick out to him. Jisung quickly crosses them all out, and  he finds himself back to where he started. His mind was blank (he blames himself for being out of touch with the Korean music scene), and he groans, slamming his head onto the wooden table, instantly regretting his decision as the pain flooded in. Figuring out a song should be way easier than writing out scenes. He’s never been so frustrated in his life; shouldn’t this be easy to him?

 

It could be the atmosphere that was setting him off. At this rate, he should just finish his scone and leave; if he went somewhere else, he might be able think a little clearer.

 

He gets up from the small table, waving Daehwi over to take his bill.  

 

“Is there anything else I can get you?”

 

“No, I’m fine.”

 

“Alright then, I’ll be right back with your receipt.”

 

He feels bad for leaving so abruptly, but the plot is making him go crazy. Jisung nods his head to acknowledge Daehwi, who clears his plate, and then proceeds to let out a deep rooted sigh, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. He _has_ to figure out this song issue before they start filming tomorrow. If he didn’t, his whole music career had the possibility of being jeopardized. _The_ Yoon Jisung, the famed director without world class music? Not a chance.

 

And it is in that moment the gods have decided hear his plea, and they do so in the form of a playlist change. The smooth jazz is replaced with dramatic piano chords, and the melody holds Jisung firmly in place. The music resonates within the confines of the small cafe and he is drawn into the swell of the music as the layers are built up and the crescendo is drawn out until,

 

“ _Deeper, deeper, deeper, than anyone else,_

_The fact that,_

_The our destinies have connected,_

_Deeper, deeper, deeper, than anyone else,_

_Though walking on the road leading to an end,_

_We will eventually meet again, it’s our fate_.”

 

And the gates of heaven burst open and finally shine their light down up his withered soul, and Jisung just _knows_ that _this_ is the one. Scone left forgotten, he listens to the song with rapt attention the singer is good, but what really draws him in is the music itself. Each note plays with his emotions, each layer rich with nuance, each progression pulling at his heartstrings. He feels a connection to the creator and to the song with the sad yet hopeful tune.  As soon as Daehwi makes a reappearance he asks,

 

“Excuse me, what’s the name of this song?”

 

“Oh, this?” Daehwi asks, slightly amused, “It’s called _Deeper_. It was a pretty popular song a while back. You haven’t heard of it?”

 

“Unfortunately, I haven’t,” Jisung admits (when he’s actually just lying through his teeth, out of embarrassment over how out-of-touch he’s been with Korean music), “I just came from overseas.”

 

“Interesting,” Daehwi nods as if he was understanding.

 

“Did you mean you wanted the name of the artist, or the actual composer?”

 

“The composer.”

 

“Does the name Hwang Minhyun ring a bell?”

 

“Hwang Minhyun?” repeats Jisung, the name rolling off his tongue in a foreign manner. He’s known many famous composers (Hell, he went to college with some of them), but Hwang Minhyun doesn’t ring a bell. Then, his eyes widen at the sudden flashback. 

 

It takes him all the way back to high school, to his quiet classmate who was in the music program with him. There _was_ a Minhyun who was majoring in music composition, and he and Jisung were even good friends at one point. Jisung’s eyes widen at the sudden realization.

 

“Oh, Hwang Minhyun!” Jisung exclaims, “I _do_ know him, but it’s been a while! We went to school together!” (Daehwi looks at him strangely because of the sudden change of attitude). Jisung, now eager, peppers him with questions.

 

“Has he written any songs recently?”

 

“Uh, not that I know of?” Daehwi thinks out loud, “I mean, I didn’t really keep up with him in the later years, but from what I know of, no.”

 

“Oh, really? What happened to him?”

 

“Who knows? He was an amazing composer - all the bands that I listened to when I was a kid all had songs written by him,” he sighed, “It’s a shame.”

 

“Where can I find him?” Jisung asks quickly, “Is he still in Seoul?”

 

“Huh? Sir, you really _are_ a foreigner,” Daehwi replied, shaking his head, “How long has it been since you’ve been in contact with Hwang Minhyun?” Jisung gives him a confused look, so the boy goes further on to explain.

 

“He just disappeared five years ago into thin air. Said he wanted to quit or something. For all anybody knows, he could’ve moved to some secret country or works as a clerk in some local grocery store.”

 

“Interesting.” Jisung slowly says, stretching the word out, taking a pen to scribble the name onto a napkin. Daehwi stands, a little perplexed at Jisung’s sudden interest, and takes the caution to ask —

 

“Forgive me if I’m acting rude, but is there any reason why you’re interested in Hwang Minhyun? Just because nobody cares about him in this day and age…”

 

“You’re the one who changed the playlist, yeah?” Jisung interrupts, sliding him a thousand won, the boy’s eyes widening, “Here. Take this. You’ve inspired me.”

 

“Thanks,” Jisung starts, now reading the nametag on Daehwi’s chest, “Daehwi, right? You really helped me out there.”

 

Jisung abruptly put on his winter coat and left, the bells chiming in tune with his exit. Daehwi stares down at the money that was placed into his palm, before staring back out through the window at Jisung’s disappearing figure.

 

“...Who exactly was that?”

 

♫

 

A day in the life of Hwang Minhyun consists of black coffee and a simple piece of toast with blackberry jam. He sits by the kitchen counter for what seems like ages, staring at the steam that comes from the coffee until it becomes no more. His little apartment is nice and clean, though there is barely any light that comes through. It’s a dampened sense of peace, and Minhyun finally brings the cup to his lips, ironically surprised at how bitter it is.

 

His cat, Momofuku (Momo for short), was his only friend, not that he minded. Minhyun had found him in a back alley, his matted grey fur soaked in mud and rain, and his wide green eyes staring back at Minhyun. Minhyun took him in that day, cleaning the cat back up in his apartment, and naming him “Momofuku” after his favorite fast food chain. Ever since Minhyun isolated himself, he lost all contact and didn’t get the chance to have social interaction with another human. But he enjoys Momo’s company. Momo is a good friend, listening to Minhyun complain about his miserable life while he eats his can of tuna. Momo can’t judge Minhyun, or at the very least, he couldn’t be vocal about it, and he’d let Minhyun pet him for as long as he wanted.

 

Because of his past successes, Minhyun had enough money to help make ends meet for awhile. He did try to apply for a part time job; but every time, he’d call the place and freeze up whenever someone got onto the other line.

 

He’s been following the same routine for years now. Minhyun gets up, waits as his trusty Keurig makes him a cup of instant black coffee, scrape at the remains of the jam, and idly sit and pet his cat, staring at the walls that confined him. He’d blankly glance at the awards that hung all around that he hasn’t had the heart to take down just yet, and would turn on his television to watch whatever was currently playing. (His current favorite thing to watch was Inuyasha reruns. Why? He couldn’t even answer that himself.) Besides watching television, Minhyun didn’t do much otherwise, besides the occasional indoor yoga and cleaning. Minhyun doesn’t even check his phone anymore; it’s terribly old and outdated (he hasn’t gotten a new phone for five years now), and he has no reason to look at it if he’s not going to get any messages. He’d head to bed, somewhat dissatisfied, and stare up at his ceiling until he’d fall into a dreamless sleep. It was an average lifestyle that he gradually became accustomed to.

 

After finishing his breakfast, Minhyun settles himself in his living room couch, reaching for the remote to turn on the television. He settles on finishing an episode he had paused and stopped watching yesterday. Momo climbs his way onto his lap to join him and they continue to watch the show together.

 

“ _Humans are more greedy and arrogant than any other creature!_ ” Inuyasha says through the screen. Minhyun first squints, and turns the volume up because he couldn’t hear what he was saying, and Momo jumps in response at the sudden volume change. Minhyun mouths a quick _sorry_ to the cat, who deadpans and curls back up into a ball.

 

 _“On top of that, when a human has someone he’s gotta protect, his powers grow exponentially. I have what it takes to destroy you!”_ Inuyasha proclaims to the evil villain. Minhyun watches the episode almost humorously as the two characters engage into a cheesy battle, but Inuyasha’s words still resonate within him.

 

It _is_ true to some extent. He recalls his past experiences; humans are indeed greedy to a degree. Even he, himself was. Minhyun applauds the creator of Inuyasha for implementing such a wise phrase into a children’s cartoon.

 

“What do you think, Momo?” he asks the grey cat, who peeks his head up. Momo simply gives him a look as if he was saying _“Does it look like I care?”_ and Minhyun softly laughs, turning his attention back to the screen.

 

_Ding-dong!_

 

His doorbell rings, and after a short pause, it’s being rung again. Momo gets up and licks Minhyun’s cheek, nudging at the door. Minhyun blinks. He just brought in the mail yesterday, and he wasn’t expecting any packages. His neighbors never chose to interact with him ever since Minhyun placed a fat “DO NOT DISTURB” sign on his front door, and reporters haven’t discovered his personal address just yet.

 

Who could it be?

 

“It’s probably just another weirdo, Momo,” he reassures the cat, “Just ignore it.”

 

“Hwang Minhyun, I know you’re in there!” the voice outside yells.

 

Minhyun has a double take, wondering if his ears were deceiving him. Momo gives him another look. He decides to ignore the knocking, assuming it was another door-to-door salesmen, until he heard the person yell from outside.

 

“Minhyun!”

 

It takes a second for Minhyun to register the voice that had just greeted him, but as soon as he saw the silver hair peeking through the windows, Minhyun knew exactly who it was. Slightly cursing at himself, he opens the door to greet his old companion.

 

“Yoon Jisung?”

 

Jisung looked a lot different than what Minhyun remembered. His silver hair was the only thing that remained the same; the current Jisung now had dozens of piercings, clad in designer sunglasses and head-to-toe in designer brands. The man took off his sunglasses, revealing his brown eyes that crinkled into his signature eye-smile, and he grins.

 

“Well, that’s not a way to greet your old classmate,” Jisung replies smartly, stepping into the doorway and letting himself in before Minhyun can protest. “It’s been forever since I last saw you! Hey, did you grow taller again?”

 

“It’s what happens when we haven’t seen each other since high school,” Minhyun laughs, giving the older a hug, “Weren’t you overseas for a while? Where were you again?”

 

“Canada,” Jisung replies, dismissing Minhyun’s personal questions as he takes off his jacket, “Cold? Yes. Maple syrup? Yes.”

 

“Anyways! I didn’t know you started composing music! That’s wild!”

 

“Oh, uh,” Minhyun answers, trying to find words on how to answer, “Yeah, I used to. It was cool.”

 

“Cool?” Jisung repeats, “That’s all you have to say? ‘ _Cool_ ’?”

 

“I mean, what other way is there to describe it?”

 

“Maybe over the top? Fucking badass? Absolutely a dream?” Jisung tries, even adding jazz hands, “Come on! I was in this cafe and I heard your song ‘Deeper’, and it moved mountains!”

 

“Hmm, that song was one of my older works,” Minhyun recalls, the tune faintly playing in his head. A smile plays on his lips at the faint memory.  “I’m surprised they’re still playing it.”

 

“It’s amazing!”

 

“I’m glad you thought so,” Minhyun replied.

 

Jisung takes a quick look at Minhyun’s apartment. It’s no surprise how impeccably clean Minhyun still was; the brown carpet is nicely vacuumed, there isn’t single speck of dust in the air, and Jisung swears that he could probably eat off of the tile floor. Minhyun had hung all of his past achievements onto the cream colored walls, and some trophies stood in a trophy chest in the corner. As Jisung keeps looking, Minhyun guides him to the small kitchen.

 

Momo is perched on the kitchen counter, but leaps off and stalks over to Jisung, rubbing his head onto his leg, nuzzling him and warming up to the man easily.

 

“Hi buddy,” Jisung coos, picking up the cat and placing it onto the counter. Momo purrs as Jisung scratches his belly.

 

“Your cat sure loves me, Minhyun.”

 

Minhyun laughs. Momo purrs again at Jisung.

 

“Momo hasn’t seen another human other than me for a while.”

 

Minhyun’s kitchen was modest enough. There’s a small marble island and a few chairs to sit on, and everything is once again spotless. Jisung’s eyes hover over the newspaper clippings that Minhyun had hung to his fridge with little magnets, all boasting his past achievements. Minhyun shuffles around his kitchen, pouring water from his trusty kettle.

 

“Tea?” Minhyun offers, handing a steaming cup over, “Sorry. I only have peppermint tea right now.”

 

Jisung takes the cup gladly. Soon enough, they find themselves laughing over old memories back from their high school days.

 

“Do you remember when Donghan and Taehyun tried to get our final postponed?” Jisung asks, trying not to cry from laughter.

 

“How can I forget?” Minhyun chuckles, “They gave Ms. Boa cookies and begged her for three days to give us the answer sheet. It was hysterical.”

 

After almost dying in a fit of laughter, Jisung remembered why he came here in the first place. He wipes away the tears from his eyes, and shifts back into his seat and clearing his throat.

 

“So,” Jisung tries, “What’ve you been up to these days?”

 

Minhyun takes a minute to respond before he opens his mouth again.

 

“Oh, just, y’know, going with the flow,” Minhyun replied.

 

“That’s it? Nothing exciting going on, no new and secret songs to share?” Jisung presses, “No top secret government ballads? Not anything written for the President of Korea?” Jisung continues in a dramatic whisper, wiggling his eyebrows.

 

Surprisingly enough, he doesn’t get a reaction from the other, and Jisung calls out to him again.

 

“Minhyun?”

 

He still doesn’t get an answer. Jisung furrows his brows. Was Minhyun ignoring him on purpose? He repeats Minhyun’s name again, but this time, a little louder. Minhyun stirs and turns around.

 

“Sorry, can you repeat that into my right ear?” Minhyun muttered, a little embarrassed, “I can’t hear very well on my left side.”

 

An awkward silence sets in.

 

 _“He just disappeared five years ago into thin air,”_  Daehwi’s voice echoes inside of Jisung’s head. He finally realizes why Minhyun suddenly went on hiatus all those years ago. He knows Minhyun; whenever something happens to him, he keeps it to himself and goes into hiding. Everything makes _sense_ now. He hesitates before asking Minhyun, who was now curious as to what Jisung had asked earlier.

 

Minhyun wasn’t hiding from just the people, but also his own truth that he refuses to admit. He was overcome by fear and worry and Jisung finally understood the indefinite hiatus, the hermit lifestyle, and the fear that has manifested in Minhyun’s mind over the last five years.

 

“Minhyun, forgive me for being blunt, but are you losing your hearing?”

 

Minhyun takes a minute to respond, sliding Jisung a pack of convenient store cookies. He looks down, avoiding eye contact, and Momo mews again.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“How long have you been like this?” Jisung asks gently.

 

“For a few years now,” Minhyun explained, shifting in his seat, “I’ve lost track.”

 

“When did it...happen?”

 

Jisung tenses up at the subject change; Minhyun has always been someone who likes to know everything. He shifts a little in his seat and starts fiddling with his hands.

 

“I was in denial for a long time. I thought that if I just ignored it, it would go away like a bad dream or something. But, it progressively just kept getting worse.” Minhyun watches as Jisung shifts almost uncomfortably.

 

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

 

“It’s not like I can control it. Trust me, if I had it my way, I’d have perfectly good hearing again. Why’re you back in town anyways, Jisung?”

 

“Well, I was asked to help film a new drama, and I want you to be my composer.”

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

“I want you to be my composer for my new drama,” Jisung repeats. He nudges Minhyun.

“What do you say? We can be a duo again, just like we were in high school!”

 

Minhyun sighs. He knew this question was going to come up one way or another, and he tries to find an excuse for himself. He takes Jisung’s now empty cup, rinsing it in his sink, stalling to find an excuse.

 

“Jisung,” Minhyun tries, gently rejecting the offer, “I haven’t written anything in years. Surely there’s someone more qualified to help you. I’m sure if you just went and asked around.”

 

He points at his striped pajamas.

 

“I’m literally a shadow of what I used to be. I can’t even hear out of my left ear anymore.”

 

“This isn’t healthy, Minhyun. You can’t stay cooped up in your apartment for the rest of your life.”  

 

Jisung pauses, his lips stilling from his rapid fire speech before seemingly ignoring what Minhyun had said, or perhaps he truly didn’t want to hear it.

 

“Sure I can,” Minhyun answers, “Nobody’s stopping me.”

 

“Me! _I’m_ stopping you!” Jisung argues, “What’s the point of living if you’re just stuck in your home, with only your cat as company? That sounds pretty darn lonely to me.”

 

“I’ll have you know that Momo is _great_ company, thank you very much,” Minhyun says defensively, “And besides, there’re many other composers who are fit for the job. I can even recommend you some. They’d have the same phone numbers as they did five years ago, right?”

 

“But I want _you_ on my team,” Jisung insists, brushing off Minhyun’s weak excuses, “You’re the only one that can help me on this drama; I can feel it in my gut. I just need another song, Minhyun.”

 

“A song takes time, you know.”

 

“Minhyun, I’m being serious,” Jisung says, now leaning forward in his chair, “Trust me on this one. You have a god-given talent with music. Your stubby little fingers were literally kissed by Apollo, the greek God of music himself!”

 

“ _Had_ ,” Minhyun corrects, pointing back to his ear, “And I don’t really believe in greek mythology. It’s kind of hard to make music when you can’t even hear what you’re making.”

 

“You aren’t trying hard enough, Minhyun! For God’s sake, you are a composer! Haven’t you heard of that famous Beethoven quote, ‘ _It seemed unthinkable for me to leave the world forever…’_ ”

 

“... _before I had produced all that I felt called upon to produce’_ ,” Minhyun finishes, “Yeah, I know.”

 

“Then I really don’t see the problem here.”

 

“And, if you do consider it, I’ll pay for your rent for two years,” he pauses, waiting for Minhyun’s response, “What do you say?”

 

Minhyun pauses at the sudden bribe.

 

“Where exactly are you getting this money?”

 

“You’ll be surprised at how much a movie director can make. Plus, if this drama hits it big, I’ll even give you a portion of the profit for yourself. What do you say?”

 

The deal was tempting. Minhyun shivers at the thought of his landlady coming again, banging on his door and demanding for him to finally pay his fees, and instantly caves in.

 

“...I guess so.”

 

They shake on it (more like, Jisung shakes Minhyun’s hand, who is already regretting saying yes).

 

“Great!” Jisung exclaims, stretching his hand out for a high-five (to which, Minhyun grudgingly reciprocates), “Here! I’ll text you the address of the studio. Meet me there tomorrow at 9AM, yeah?”

 

They exchange numbers, and Jisung skips on his way out. Minhyun shuts the door, and Momo mews in response.Minhyun slumps to the floor, refusing to move as his cat walks across him to get to his water bowl. His phone buzzes for the first time in five years, and Minhyun unlocks it to see an unread text message. Blinking a few times, he sees the contact name.

 

☎

 **YJS** : hello old pal :D

 

Minhyun groans, and Momo merely ignores him.

 

Just what did he get himself into?


	2. verse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "the real slim shady" by eminem is always a great way to bond.

 

"You got two legs and a heart beat. What's stopping you?"

\- Inuyasha, _Inuyasha_

 

* * *

 

 

☎

 

**YJS:** good MORNING minhyun! the sun is shining, the birds are chirping...and...wait for it...YOU are coming to the studio today!

 

**YJS:** you better be here in a few hours, or face the wrath of your angry landlady!

 

 

_ A red carpet rolls out. Paparazzi took the scene, bringing their large cameras and microphones with them. Prominent actresses and actors step out of fancy limousines, wearing over the top fancy attire, and the reporters take it in. _

 

_ “Yes, look this way!” _

 

_ “Hey, can I ask you a few quick questions?” _

 

_ Everything ceases when a specific car pulls into the venue, and all attention is on it. As soon as the chauffeur opens the door and the person sitting inside is revealed, the antics just raise even higher. _

 

_ “Hwang Minhyun! Sir, can I get a quick moment of your time?” _

 

_ “Oh my God, that’s Hwang Minhyun! Hwang Minhyun!” _

 

_ “Minhyun, can I get an autograph for my daughter?” _

 

Minhyun wakes up in a cold sweat to meet a furry set of eyes staring right into his soul, and almost jumps in fright, before realizing that it’s just his cat. 

 

“Hey, Momo,” Minhyun greets his cat sleepily. The cat simply meows in response, jumping off of Minhyun and onto the floor, padding his way into the kitchen. Minhyun sits up, and tries to rub the sleep out of his eyes. With a groan, he stares at his alarm clock: 7:00 A.M in large red numbers glare back at him.

 

Maybe he should start getting ready.

 

Even though Minhyun follows the same routine he always does, something feels different. He brushes his teeth, staring at his reflection in the mirror and a tired Minhyun squints back at him, hair sticking out in every angle. He finally takes a moment to analyze himself. Minhyun places a delicate hand on his face, feeling the stubble that was starting to grow in. He used to hate not being clean shaven. 

 

Even his Keurig greets him differently. It beeps an upbeat tune when his mug is full, and Minhyun even opens a new jar of jam for his toast. He eats it slowly like usual, but it still does nothing to quell the nerves pooling at the pit of his stomach.

 

This is the first time in years he’s had to wear anything other than his pajamas. His clothes come tumbling out of his closet in an act of rebellion, as if they were finally free. Sweaters and button ups topple down from the top shelf, and before he knows it, there’s a big heap of clothes lying on his bedroom floor. 

 

Minhyun picks up a blue collared shirt and black slacks from the top of the pile. This would do for now.

 

He sighs to himself once again as he slips into the clothes. The watch on his left wrist reads 8:30 A.M. As he stares at his newly dressed and combed self in the mirror, Minhyun shifts the leather satchel slung on his right shoulder in a sad attempt to make himself more presentable and he gulps. 

 

This is  _ really  _ happening. 

 

He cracks his apartment door open and peeks out as if he’s expecting a line of people to be waiting right outside, and sighs in relief when he sees nothing of the sort. Minhyun stares at the floor like it’s lava, but chooses to take a cautious step anyway. Nothing happens. Minhyun musters up the measly remains of courage that he has left in his body to continue walking. 

 

This was progress, right?

 

The morning sun is almost too bright for him, and Minhyun is still adjusting to the cold atmosphere. The streets, to his surprise, haven’t changed one bit. They still have the same names, the same shops are open selling the same morning breakfast, and the cold, crisp air is literally identical to how it was five years ago. As he walks to the subway station, he keeps his head down low, paranoid that someone would spot him. 

 

But nobody does; not even the old lady who he used to sell him oranges every day recognizes him. She merely blinks at him, asking if he’d like to try them; her grandson picked them for her yesterday. But Minhyun shakes his head, offering the lady a small smile before heading off.  

 

Realizing that he’s forgotten, the feeling of mildness washes over him. He’s partially glad that he’s no longer remembered; but the other half of him wishes he was.

 

♫

 

When he gets there, the set was already bustling with activity. People are moving cameras, running around with makeup and costumes, and some yell across the room to each other. Minhyun was reminded of how bees work inside of a hive with the people around him constantly buzzing. 

 

Minhyun feels his mouth go dry and his palms go clammy; he hasn’t been in such an environment for so long, and it’s making him nervous. He’s starting to doubt the reason he chose to come here in the first place. 

 

Why did he even decide to do this again? Maybe he could pay for his rent another way. He could just call Jisung, lie that he was sick, and just keep using the same excuse again. He turns around. Jisung is nowhere to be found.

 

“Minhyun,  _ there _ you are!” Jisung exclaims, pulling Minhyun out of his failed attempt of leaving. He’s changed into a bright orange polo and white slacks, reminding Minhyun of an orange creamsicle. 

 

He drags Minhyun by the arm, forcing Minhyun to follow him “Just in time! Let me introduce you to everyone!”

 

Jisung leads him around the corner.

 

“This is our crew,” Jisung points out at the men and women busily running around the set, with different types of equipment, “They do all of the behind the scene action.” The people that Jisung had pointed out all gave Minhyun a wave, who awkwardly reply back with one as well.

 

“Here’s the cast! Starting on the left, we have Mina, Sejeong, Woojin, Jihoon, Hyunbin, Kenta, oh, and Somi! And over there is Daniel, and Jinyoung, and Jieqiong…”

 

“Sorry I’m late,” a voice suddenly calls out from the doorway, interrupting Jisung “Traffic sucked, but at least I got everyone donuts!”

 

A man comes up to them with a large blue box. As soon as he enters the room, the whole cast laughs.

 

“Ong Seongwu,” Jisung scolds, whacking the man with the rolled up script, “You’re ten minutes late, and kept us all waiting! As the main character, you-” 

 

Ong Seongwu has chestnut brown hair that falls right in front of his eyes, and a charismatic smile. Minhyun analyzes him quickly; this guy fits the persona of an actor, with charm in every single step. He looks at Minhyun before breaking out into a large grin. Donned in a black knit sweater and dark washed jeans, he looks effortlessly fashionable, and Minhyun could easily see that his rent expense for a year couldn’t even match up to the man’s outfit.

 

“...Have to be accountable. Yeah, yeah, I know,” the man finishes, but props the bright blue box of pastries in front of Jisung’s face, “But I got you an old-fashioned donut; I know they’re your favorite! Does that at least give me an excuse?”

 

Jisung eyes the pastry, giving Seongwu one last glare before he grabs it. “Don’t do it again.”

 

The man cheers, and finally notices Minhyun who’s standing behind him. He turns around, curious.

 

“Who’s this?”

 

“Seongwu, this is my old friend, Hwang Minhyun,” Jisung introduces, wiping the excess crumbs from his mouth, “Minhyun, this is Ong Seongwu. He’s the main actor.”

 

“Wait, Hwang Minhyun, as in,  _ the _ Hwang Minhyun?” Seongwu says excitedly, now shaking his hand with enthusiasm.

 

“Oh, ah,” Minhyun awkwardly laughs and replies, “You could say that,” 

 

“I’m a huge fan!” Seongwu exclaims, “I listened to your stuff back in my rookie days!”

 

Minhyun feels his ears turning pink at Seongwu’s enthusiasm, and firmly shakes his hand. 

 

“I’m glad you liked my music,” Minhyun smiles, “I look forward to working with you.”

 

“The pleasure is all mine!” Seongwu replies with even more chagrin, now turning to face Jisung in sheer disbelief.

 

“Jisung, how did you manage to get  _ Hwang Minhyun _ to work with us?”

 

He received a smack in the back of the head from the elder.

 

“You act like I don’t have my own connections,” he huffs, “Minhyun isn’t the only one with accomplishments!”

 

Seongwu throws his hands up in mock defense, and Jisung turns to Minhyun.

 

“Let’s go to my office so we can discuss the plot, yeah?”

 

Jisung’s office is makeshift, and Minhyun notices the boxes that were yet to be unpacked, the diploma Jisung got from Canada on one of the walls, and the picture frames set on his wooden office desk for decoration. Jisung takes a seat in the large, swiveling office chair as Minhyun settles in the cushioned chair directly across from him. He pulls out two packets, sliding one over for Minhyun to read through.

 

“Can I get you something to drink? Water, juice, coffee?” He asks Minhyun, gesturing towards the newly set up mini fridge and keurig. Minhyun shakes his head, politely declining, and Jisung gets down to business. 

 

They flip to the first page. Jisung takes out a yellow highlighter, highlighting certain words. It was surprising to see how fast Jisung could change his attitude, from a complete class clown to an actual director. 

 

“The drama is called ‘Down to Earth.’” Jisung explains, “It’s a typical adult rom-com where the main character is an author who is coming back to writing after being beaten down from hate and whatnot, and doesn’t really know where to turn after all of his friends abandon him. He meets this barista who encourages him to get back to writing. Cheesy love and dry humor ensues. It’s quite typical for a drama, if I do say so myself.”

 

He then takes his ballpoint pen and points to a section on Minhyun’s paper. 

 

“I need a song for this particular scene,” he sighs, “It’s the part where the characters confess to each other in the pouring rain. I’ve tried to think of songs, but none of them gel with it. If you can make something that fits, I’ll be grateful for the rest of eternity.”

 

Minhyun stared at the script. It seemed simple enough, and Jisung’s puppy eyes didn’t really help his case either.

 

“Fine. I’ll try to make something up, but don’t expect anything spectacular, okay?”

 

☎

 

**YJS:** hi old pal :D

**YJS:** i’m going to try my best to drag you out of that weird misery of yours

**YJS:** so open the door :D i wanna eat again

**YJS:** you’re coming with me :D the whole cast is waiting :D

 

**HMH:** i don’t wanna go 

 

**YJS:** too bad, you’re going anyways

**YJS:** hope you like kbbq :D

**YJS** : :D

 

“Look who’s finally arrived!” Jisung calls out. Minhyun sighs, sliding into a vacant seat at the corner of the table. He was the last one to show up, and all the appetizers were already finished. People give him small “hi”s and “hello”s which he returns. Kang Daniel, one of the actors Minhyun recognized, scoots over so that he could have more room.

 

“Thanks,” he murmurs to Daniel, who laughs.

 

“Why do you look so surprised, Minhyun? You’re a part of the cast!” 

 

Minhyun had forgotten how it felt to eat with a lot of other people. Everyone is deep into  conversation with one another, and Minhyun, who is still too shy to join in, merely stares down at his empty plate and chopsticks. Kang Mina takes note of this, pulling him into the conversation. 

 

“So, Minhyun, what do you think of the drama so far?” 

 

He looks up to see her smiling face and the others, expectant of his answer. 

 

“Oh, well, I think it’s got a lot of potential,” he coughs, “I trust Jisung.”

 

“He’s a wonderful director!” Doyeon chimes in, “Really. I was so excited when he invited me here!” 

 

Minhyun looks over to his friend, who was now arguing with Ong Seongwu over how to grill the meat. He chuckles to himself.

 

“Yeah. He’s a great guy.”

 

“I need to use the bathroom,” he mumbles, slightly wincing at his hearing aid screeching. Daniel and the others look at him, confused.

 

“We haven’t even eaten yet!”

 

“I probably ate something bad for lunch,” Minhyun says quickly, already standing up.

 

Minhyun goes outside to catch his breath. His hearing aid was going haywire being around so many people at once, and the screeching noise had finally ceased. Minhyun sighed, adjusting at the small knobs.

 

“His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy,” Minhyun says under his breath, reciting the song lyrics, “Mom’s spaghetti…”

 

“Fuck, what was the next line?”

 

“...He’s nervous, but on the surface, he looks calm and ready,” a voice behind him finishes. Minhyun whips his head around to see Seongwu. He scoots over on the bench to make room for the other.

 

“I didn’t know you liked Eminem,” Seongwu says, amusement audible in his voice.

 

“I like the lyrics,” Minhyun explained, “They make me feel better when I’m nervous.”

 

“You don’t really like social settings very much, do you?” Seongwu asks him. Minhyun gulps.

 

“Ah, yeah, they’re not really my thing,” he awkwardly laughs, trying to play it off, “Just a lot of noise.”

 

“I get that,” Seongwu replies, nodding his head in understanding, “It’s like distractions everywhere, yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” Minhyun agrees.

 

The silence between them is thought out but not thick, and is generally peaceful. The two of them stay quiet, the noise of the rest of the cast inside fading out. 


	3. pre-chorus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sigh.

  
"It's nice not to be alone."

\- Kagome, _Inuyasha_

 

* * *

 

 

Minhyun is drunk. He’s not exactly what people would consider a lightweight, and can handle a decent amount of alcohol, but he definitely went over his personal limit. He slams the glass hard back onto the counter, demanding for another drink. At this point, he doesn’t care if people stare or if they recognize him anymore. He just wants to drown in his own, personal thoughts right now.

 

_ “Is there a chance that my hearing can be regained? What about surgery?” Minhyun pleaded the doctor, “Please...I write music...I-I can’t let that be taken from me.” _

 

Minhyun chuckles at the recalled moment, all those years ago in the hospital when his world started crashing down. It all seems so long ago, but it’s haunting him today in particular. Taking another swig, Minhyun’s head is pounding as he tries to regain his composure, but he slumps anyways. 

 

He’s lost in his own world of despair. The realization that he’s actually losing his hearing didn’t hit him until today when he put on Jisung’s headphones to listen to a few demos earlier today.

 

_ Filming had ended for the day. The two of them were back in Jisung’s office, and Jisung had asked Minhyun to listen to a few songs and give his opinion.  _

 

_ “Here, try this song,” Jisung said, shuffling through the playlist he had created, “It’s kinda sentimental, but I was wondering if we could maybe remix it.” _

 

_ He waits thirty seconds to see Minhyun’s reaction, but instead, Minhyun turns to him confused. _

 

_ “Jisung, did you turn it on?”  _

 

_ Jisung cocked an eyebrow at Minhyun’s question. _

 

_ “Yeah?” Jisung replied, “Here, let me see them. Maybe they’re broken.” Minhyun handed him the headphones to which he instantly put on, and Jisung sadly shook his head. _

 

_ “There’s music playing. What if I turned it on a little louder?” _

 

_ They tried again. Minhyun put the headphones on once more, and Jisung waited for him to signal that he indeed heard the music. But, that moment never came. Instead, Minhyun took off the headphones, defeated. _

 

_ “Hey, it’s okay, Minhyun,” Jisung comforted his friend, “It’s okay. It wasn’t really important anyways.” He anxiously looks at his friend, who finally lifted his head.  _

 

_ “I...I think I’m actually going deaf.” _

 

“Sir, I think that you’ve had enough for the night,” the bartender gently tries to tell him, clearing his glass from the table, “Should I call for a taxi to send you home?”

 

“No, no,” Minhyun slurs, waving his hand crazily before slapping down whatever cash he had left in his wallet, “I’m leaving now.”

 

He stumbles out into the street.  Cursing at himself for not bringing a jacket, he shivers and saunters on his way home. He can barely view the blurry street names, secretly hoping that he just somehow makes it back to his apartment in one piece.

 

He slams right into the person, both of them toppling to the ground. The man grumbled and stood back up, dusting off his trench coat, and Minhyun mumbles a quick apology.

 

“Hey, you! Watch where you’re going!” the man said, a tinge of annoyance, “You bumped right into me.”

 

It was Ong Seongwu, who was heading home. As soon as he saw Minhyun’s staggering figure walking away, his reaction suddenly changed.

 

“Wait, is that Hwang Minhyun?”

 

Seongwu chases after the swaying finger up ahead, and as soon as he reaches him, Minhyun’s knees buckle and he falls onto Seongwu, who quickly catches him. 

 

“Hey, hey,” Seongwu gently shakes him. His eyes widen as they meet Minhyun’s bloodshot ones, and the smell of strong alcohol confirms his suspicions.

 

“Minhyun, are you drunk?”

 

Minhyun mumbles gibberish that he can’t comprehend in response, and Seongwu sighs. He can’t just leave Minhyun here on the streets; for all he knows, the man could get mugged. He has no idea where Minhyun lives, so he pulls out his phone to ask Jisung.

 

☎

 

**OSW** : hey, do you know where minhyun lives? i somehow bumped into  him and he isn’t really sober, so i think it’s best if i send him back myself.

 

**YJS** : oh, that’s interesting. yeah, his address is 1010 Nuble Road. 

**YJS** : ;-)

 

**OSW** : ...thanks. 

 

**YJS** : ;-)

 

Seongwu stares at Jisung’s text suspiciously before disregarding it. He takes Minhyun’s left arm and puts it around him, hoisting the other up, and the two of them slowly, but surely, start heading back to Minhyun’s place. Minhyun is still garbling nonsense on their way back.

 

They finally arrive (Seongwu drags him up the stairs, and by the time they reach Minhyun’s front door, he’s completely out of breath), and Seongwu digs around Minhyun’s pockets, looking for a spare key. He finally fishes it, looking down again to Minhyun, who’s still mumbling, and sighs, opening the door and letting them both in.

 

Seongwu never thought that he’d be standing in his childhood idol’s apartment while helping him when he’s drunk, but he is. A grey cat hops down from its perched position on the couch, stopping right in front of Seongwu and tilting its head, as if it’s asking what Seongwu is doing there.

 

“Hey, little buddy,” Seongwu whispers, almost foolishly. He lifts Minhyun back up again, “This is your owner, yeah?” Of course, the cat doesn’t give him a response, and Seongwu places Minhyun on the living room couch. It’s only then where he fully takes in the apartment. From the golden CDs that were plastered in rows on the walls, to the old pictures of Minhyun smiling with his past colleagues, to the newspaper clippings that Minhyun had cut himself to save, Seongwu realizes that Minhyun is holding onto the past with an iron grip, wishing that he could turn back time to relive it. 

 

It’s eye-opening; not everyone lives a perfect and glamorous life, and some are hiding themselves better than what others may know. His thoughts are interrupted by Minhyun getting up, still half-asleep as the man rushes to the bathroom, emptying out his stomach’s contents into the toilet. Seongwu quickly follows, kneeling down to help Minhyun from choking, and holding the man back by the shoulders. 

 

“This sucks,” Minhyun mumbles, “Everything fucking sucks.”

 

Seongwu helps him get up, leading him back to the living room to sit down. The grey cat is back, and jumps into Minhyun’s lap. Minhyun doesn’t seem to take notice, and that’s when Seongwu decides to bring up the elephant in the room.

 

“Minhyun,” he whispers, “Are you...okay? Why were you drinking so late at night?”

 

Minhyun doesn’t really drink. But today somehow struck a final blow into his emotional system, and he found himself dead drunk, lamenting all of his sorrows to a sympathetic Seongwu. His conscious was still sober, screaming at him to shut up, but his mouth kept rambling on.

 

“I’m going deaf,” Minhyun laughs bitterly. It was a sound that seemed so  _ empty  _ in contrast to the music that he made. Seongwu doesn’t have a response, more shocked than anything, and Minhyun takes note, laughing along. “Funny, right? A composer, who’s dependent on his ears, losing his hearing?”

 

He walks over and sits back down onto the piano bench. Seongwu watched as Minhyun finally unravels, slamming his fingers onto keys in a flurry of anger. The piano belts out an unpleasant tune, and Minhyun proceeds on with his hysterics. 

 

“See? I literally can’t hear anything,” he laughs emptily, his voice hollow, “I can’t hear a single thing at all. As soon as people found out I was losing my hearing, they all started leaving. All the people who I thought were my friends left me, and I literally had nowhere to turn. It’s kind of miserable when the only thing you know how to use as an escape from reality is the one thing you lost.

 

“How can a composer write music when you can’t listen to what you’re making?”

 

“I’m sure there’s another way,” Seongwu says, trying to think of a comforting solution, “What about surgery? I’m sure there’s a medication you can take.”

 

“You act like I haven’t tried that,” Minhyun laughs bitterly. He clumsily points at the empty orange bottles that lied on the counter, “You see those? That’s medicine. And it didn’t work.”

 

And for the first time ever, Hwang Minhyun leaves himself vulnerable to the world. No longer hiding in shame, he’s finally come to accept that he is indeed going deaf, and that it’s a road that he can never stray from. He’s come to accept the fact that soon enough, the music that once rang through his ears will finally cease, and all will be quiet. He can’t run from fate; so he finally accepts it with open arms. 

 

Minhyun doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol speaking, but Seongwu looks even more captivating when he’s up close. It’s like the alcohol had taken away all of his common sense, because Minhyun finds himself inching closer and closer. 

 

“Minhyun?”

 

“Ah, whatever,” Minhyun mumbles, and his lips crash onto Seongwu’s. 

 

Though his mind screams at him to stop, his heart tells him to continue. The alcohol mixes into their mouths, leaving a metal aftertaste. It’s desperate but longing, like a sad ballad on repeat. What’s more surprising is that instead of shoving him away, Seongwu stays firm. 

 

He doesn’t know if he’s doing it out of drunken pity, but Minhyun doesn’t question it. They part, Seongwu’s face blank, and Minhyun panics. There’s a long pause that follows. Seongwu is quiet, gently setting Minhyun back onto his bed.

 

“Goodnight,” he whispers, searching Minhyun’s face for any sign of discomfort before turning to leave. At the last second, Minhyun grabs his coat sleeve, giving it a small tug, and Seongwu turns back.

 

“Don’t leave,” he whispers, his eyes drooping, “I’ve lost everything. Everyone who I cared about left me already. Don’t be like them, too.”

 

There’s a certain look of disparity in Minhyun’s eyes that makes Seongwu pause; the way Minhyun’s breath goes raggedy, the prolonged lack of self confidence, self-hatred, and loneliness. It’s enough to make Seongwu kneel back down and place a hand on his shoulder.  

 

“I won’t, I won’t,” Seongwu reassures the drunken man. 

  
  


Minhyun stays quiet for a while, and Seongwu doesn’t realize that Minhyun has fallen asleep. He carefully lays Minhyun’s head back on the pillow before checking to see the man’s face again. 

 

Minhyun has a thin frown painted on his face, and Seongwu watches as he pulls the covers up by his nose, as if he’s trying to cover himself from the world once again.

 

The grey cat is still present in the room, its yellow eyes staring at Seongwu. Seongwu turns.

 

“Hey, little cat, do you mind if I stay here for the night?” he asks, then pointing at Minhyun’s sleeping figure, “I want to make sure your owner’s okay.” The cat merely looks back, as if it’s giving Seongwu its approval, and disappears again into the dark. Seongwu takes it as a yes. 

 

Seongwu leaves the room, settling himself into Minhyun’s couch. Staring at the ceiling, there are so many thoughts that go through his head, and all he can hear is Minhyun’s voice resounding inside of him.

 

He wants to help him. But how?

 

♫

 

Minhyun forgot what feeling hungover felt like. In all honesty, it was a total  _ bitch _ . He still reeks of the alcohol that he had the night before, and he’s still dressed in his regular clothes.

 

His head was still pounding as he tried to recollect his memories from the night before. They come to him in small fragments, slowly but surely; he remembers how he entered the bar, to how he started getting drunk, and how he left -

 

The next memory makes him freeze.

 

Seongwu took him home. And he basically vented out his whole life story to him.

 

They  _ kissed _ . Moreso, Minhyun forced his lips onto Seongwu, who didn’t choose to pull away.

 

_ Oh. _

 

“Shit!” Minhyun curses under his breath, falling back down on his bed, using his pillow to cover his face. Part of him is praying that it was all just a crazy hallucination. Momo greets him like usual, perched on his bedpost, and Minhyun stares right back at the cat.

 

“What is it that you know that I don’t, Momo?” The cat merely looks back before jumping off and sauntering out through the bedroom door. Minhyun rubs his temples, his migraine in full blown effect, and turns to his right to see the prepared glass of water and two advil tablets. 

 

Well, he definitely didn’t put this here. 

 

“Sorry for crashing here for the night,” someone apologizes, “I wanted to make sure you were okay in the morning.”

 

Minhyun looks up to see Seongwu standing in the doorway. He had taken off his jacket, wearing a plain white tee and black sweatpants. Minhyun feels a lump stuck in his throat. 

 

“It’s okay,” Minhyun breathes. Though he seems at ease, his inner voice is shrieking at him.

 

_ “You idiot! And he looks  _ **_good_ ** _ in the morning, too! You made him stay the night? God, Hwang Minhyun, how are you going to live this down?” _

 

“If you’d like, I made some breakfast...food can help alleviate hangovers.”

 

“Yeah...I’d like that.” 

 

Seongwu exits, and Momo comes back into the room, as if he was waiting for Minhyun to say something. Minhyun simply glares at the cat before flopping back onto his bed.

 

To Minhyun’s surprise, Seongwu is actually a pretty decent cook. By the time Minhyun seats himself, there’s already two steaming plates of food ready. He skeptically picks up a piece of toast. 

 

“Toast and...butter?”

 

“Uh, yeah?” Seongwu says, turning his head away from the frying pan, “Why? Do you not put butter on your toast?”

 

“It’s not that,” Minhyun hurriedly reassures him, “I just haven’t had anything with toast besides blackberry jam in a while.”

 

“Oh, really? Well, it’s how I eat mine every morning,” Seongwu muses, and proceeds to slide the eggs onto a plate, “Hopefully, you’ll enjoy it too.”

 

“You really didn’t have to do all of this,” Minhyun thanks him, taking the plate. Seongwu merely shakes his head.

 

“I wanted to.”

 

It’s silent as the two of them eat. Minhyun sighs into the food once more; it’s interesting to eat something that isn’t his typical toast and blackberry jam. He laments over this until Seongwu decides to discuss the elephant in the room.

 

“So, uh, about last night,” Seongwu starts, and Minhyun almost chokes once again on his toast,”Should we talk about it?”

 

“Do we have to?” Minhyun winces, already bracing himself for the awkward conversation.

 

“I mean, we’re coworkers. And you kind of took my first kiss while drunk last night, so I think I need at least a decent conversation about it.”

 

“That was your first kiss? Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Minhyun babbles, a feeling of embarrassment washing over him, “If I had just known-”

 

“It’s fine,” Seongwu says, his eyes showing signs of amusement, “Really. Don’t worry about it.”

 

“The first kiss thing is a minor detail; I actually wanted to talk about what you told me yesterday.”

 

Another awkward pause. Momo turns his head to look at the two of them.

 

“I know, Minhyun,” Seongwu starts, a small, sad smile playing on his lips, “You don’t have to hide it from me.”

 

Another pause follows. The only sound that can be heard is Momo meowing at the two of them, and Minhyun freezes. 

 

“Please, please, don’t tell anyone,” Minhyun pleads, “If the media found out, I’d get maimed.”

 

“I won’t, but I want to help you.”

 

“But I’m living life just fine,” he points out, “I don’t necessarily need help.”

 

“Sure you do,” Seongwu prompts, “For instance, you really have to get out of your comfort zone. I’ll help with that.”

 

“My comfort zone?”

 

“Minhyun, do you think I can’t see the fact that your cat is your only friend? Or how you’re scared of talking to people?”

 

Minhyun was offended, pride covering the shame he was feeling; Seongwu really did call him out then. His tone wasn’t aggressive, but his body language told so much more. He crosses his arms and taps his foot impatiently. Was Seongwu trying to help him here, or was he trying to diss him? Minhyun couldn’t tell. 

 

“What exactly do you get out of helping me?” 

 

“Your music helped me out during a rough patch in my life, so I feel obliged to help you during one of yours. Consider it almost like a ‘thank you.’”

 

 

* * *

 

☎

 

**OSW:** hey minhyun

**OSW:** hey minhyun

**OSW:** hey minhyun

 

**HMH:** ...yes?

 

**OSW:** open your front door

**OSW:** i want ramen

**OSW:** you’re coming with me

 

**HMH:** and if i don’t want to go?

 

**OSW:** i’ll start singing from the top of my lungs

**OSW:** 3

**OSW:** 2

 

**HMH:** WAIT

**HMH:** ...i’ll be right there

 

“Remind me why we’re here again,” Minhyun says as the two of them go through the entrance.

 

Seongwu had dragged him out of his apartment and insisted that Minhyun accompany him to a new ramen shop he had discovered a few days before. The restaurant is noticeably busy for a week day evening.

 

They’re seated in a corner booth. Seongwu takes off his mask, and finally frees his hair from the baseball cap that he was previously wearing.

 

“Well, for starters,” Seongwu says, still looking down at the menu, “This ramen place is new. And secondly, I’m here to prove to you that instant noodles are not even close to the real thing itself.”

 

“Now, do you want to try the special combo, or the deluxe one?”

 

Minhyun shifts in his seat and stares at the menu in front of him cluelessly, “...I guess the special combo.”

 

Seongwu orders for the both of them, and the waitress comes back with two steaming bowls, placing one in front of each of them. Minhyun stare at the heap of noodles and broth like it’s a foreign commodity, and Seongwu grins and grabs a pair of chopsticks, motioning at Minhyun.

 

“What’re you looking at? If you wait too long, the ramen’s going to get cold.”

 

Minhyun carefully takes his chopsticks, struggling separate the wooden pieces, and Seongwu rolls his eyes and leans forward.

 

“Let me,” he offers. He takes the chopsticks and easily breaks them in half, giving it back to Minhyun. Minhyun almost holds his breath over how close they suddenly are, but Seongwu quickly backs up into his seat again, unaware of Minhyun’s sudden feelings.

 

“Dig in,” Seongwu orders, picking up his chopsticks and starting to eat. Minhyun is still eyeing the bowl tentatively, but eventually gives it a small bite.

 

The ramen instantly takes over Minhyun’s taste buds, which were so accustomed to the taste of toast and coffee that it hits him like a tidal wave. The freshness of the soup, the bounciness of the noodles and how perfectly al dente they are, to the strong meat flavoring; Minhyun just knows he’s going to get addicted to this place. 

 

Yeah, Seongwu was right. Instant noodles  _ really _ had nothing on the real thing. 

 

“So, how is it?” Seongwu asks, eager for his response.

 

“It’s...good,” Minhyun admits, taking another bite. Seongwu looks at him and smiles, but chooses not to say anything. They finish the meal in silence, and when they’re done, Seongwu slouches back in his seat.

 

“That’s easily the best ramen I’ve had in a while since I came back from Japan,” he sighs in content. Minhyun laughs at his posture. 

 

“Here, I got it,” Minhyun says, reaching for the bill. Before he can, Seongwu takes it from his grasp. 

 

“Nah, it’s okay. I’m the one who dragged you here anyways,” Seongwu laughs, sliding cash into the little tray, “Consider it my ‘thank you.’” Minhyun’s a little taken aback from the kind gesture, and makes a mental note to pay the next time (if there is one) they go out and eat together. 

 

“Do you still have room for dessert?”

 

Seongwu leads Minhyun into a small mom-and-pop ice cream shop, a small chime signalling their entrance. They’re the only customers inside, and a worker comes from behind the counter. 

 

“What can I get you guys tonight?” the worker asks, smiling at the two of them. 

 

“Minhyun, do you want anything?” Seongwu asks, turning around. Minhyun shakes his head.

 

“A banana split, then!”

 

Seongwu once pays again before Minhyun can protest, and the two seat themselves into a booth. 

 

“So you’re telling me you’ve never had a banana split either? The best dessert to ever be created?”

 

“Give me a break, okay? I ate toast for a while. I was satisfied with it.”

 

Their banana split soon arrives, and Minhyun has to take a second to look at it. It’s large; three huge scoops of chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry ice cream are downed in heaps of whipped cream, with a whole banana drizzled in fudge resting on the top.

 

How the  _ fuck _ are they going to finish  _ this _ ? 

 

As Minhyun continues to gape like a fish at the colossal desert, Seongwu has stars in his eyes, handing Minhyun a spoon.

 

“Let’s eat.”

 

The first bite Minhyun takes is overloaded with pure sugar; he almost spits the strawberry ice cream out. He turns to see how Seongwu is handling the sweetness, and almost wishes that he didn’t.  

 

Seongwu’s lips close around the banana, whipped cream catching on the corners of his mouth, and Minhyun actually chokes this time. The piece of banana stays lodged in his throat, and before he knows it, he can’t breathe. Seongwu’s eyes widen as he watches Minhyun gasp for air. 

 

“Oh my God!” Seongwu says, rushing over, “Minhyun? Minhyun, stay with me!”

 

Minhyun is still unable to speak and his face is now slowly turning blue, and Seongwu panics. He does what any person would; and quickly wraps his arms around Minhyun’s waist, pushing against his abdomen.

 

“Come on,” Seongwu heaves, gritting his teeth, “Come on, Minhyun, spit it out!”

 

The banana comes flying out and smacks right into the display window, and Seongwu is left trying to catch their breath, and Minhyun goes into a coughing fit. 

 

“You...you saved by life,” Minhyun says, finally catching his breath, “Thanks.”

 

“Yeah,” Seongwu replies. He and Minhyun both stare at the half-eaten banana split, and burst out laughing. It’s a feeling that Minhyun hasn’t had in a while; the lightheartedness or the rush of sugar high that travels to his head. It’s something that Minhyun hasn’t had in a while, but somehow, he finds it again with Seongwu. 

 

Minhyun doesn’t know if it’s from the sugar high, but what he has now is pure happiness; even if it’s the form of Ong Seongwu and a banana split. 


	4. chorus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> action!

 

"I want you to be happy. I want you to laugh a lot. I don't know what exactly I'll be able to do for you, but I'll always be by your side."

\- Kagome, _Inuyasha_

 

* * *

  


☎

 

 **YJS:** merry christmas, minhyun! happy holidays!

 

 **KDN:** hey, minhyun-nim! merry christmas, hope you can celebrate it well!

 

 **KMN:** hey mr. hwang! happy holidays!

 

A cup of hot peppermint tea in one hand and a piece of toast in the other, Minhyun stares out of his apartment window. The snow covers every inch of ground in a white flurry, making the city look like a winter wonderland, and the streetlights look like little fireflies dancing in the cold air. Minhyun brings the cup to his lips and almost burns his tongue as he admires the view.

 

Though Christmas is usually a time for people to enjoy presents and each others’ company, for Minhyun, it’s just another regular day. Jisung had given them the day off to celebrate, and Minhyun was back in his striped pajamas, watching Inuyasha once more. He hasn’t had time to catch up since filming started, and was about to binge watch once again.

 

“Merry Christmas, Momo,” Minhyun says to the cat, whose wearing a festive christmas sweater. The cat merely looks back at Minhyun as if he’s pitying his owner for being lonely on such a holiday.

 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Minhyun says at the cat, “It’s not like you’re any better. We’ll be lonely together, pal.”

 

He swears that Momo rolls his eyes on him before settling back down, preparing to sleep. Minhyun huffs in response, turning his attention back to the screen.

 

_Ding-dong!_

 

The doorbell rings, and Momo, disturbed from his sleep, perks his head up annoyed. Minhyun doesn’t hear it the first time, but soon, the doorbell is rung not once, but five times. To this, Momo lets out a large whine and finally catches Minhyun’s attention, motioning at the door.

 

“A visitor, on Christmas?” Minhyun frowns, looking at the cat as if he had an answer, “Momo, do you know who it could be?” He swings the door open.

 

It’s Seongwu. He’s standing outside in the snow, wearing a hideous Christmas sweater that lights up and three knit reindeer have their arms outstretched. Minhyun almost gags at the sight, but chooses to hide his reaction from him.

 

“I’m not trying to be rude, but what are you doing here?” Minhyun asks, scratching the back of his neck. Momo pops up from behind his leg, also curious about the new visitor.

 

“You’ve never celebrated Christmas with anyone, right? Well, I haven’t either. So I figured we could celebrate it together,” Seongwu bashfully explains, his cheeks turning pink. He thrusts a platter in front of Minhyun.“And, if it helps, I even brought fruitcake.”

 

Before, if he ever had visitors, Minhyun would’ve slammed the door in their face. It’s almost funny how Seongwu can just naturally let himself in, and Minhyun doesn’t even try to stop him.

 

The atmosphere is undeniably awkward at first, (Minhyun stubbing his pinky toe in to the door, Seongwu laughing at him) but things soon warm up. Seongwu turns on the local radio, and Mariah Carey’s voice starts to float through the room. Minhyun’s fireplace, which hasn’t been touched since he’s moved in, is finally rekindled, letting out a bright orange flame that soon warms up the room.

 

They finally move onto more important matters  -

 

“You’re telling me that you’ve never baked christmas cookies before?” Seongwu asks, turning around, genuinely shocked, “Like, ever?”

 

“Is it that surprising?” Minhyun asks, almost embarrassed. Momo mews in response. “I’ve just never had a reason to.”

 

“Well, we’re changing that,” Seongwu says, placing the fruitcake down on the counter.

 

They quickly get to work. Luckily enough, Minhyun had just gone to the store, so Seongwu pulls out a bag of flour, a few eggs, sugar, and milk. He sticks his head into Minhyun’s fridge.

 

“Why is there barely any food in here? And _why_ are there four cases of sparkling water?”

 

“I don’t eat that much, okay? I live alone,” Minhyun says in defense, “And Momo insists on only drinking Perrier.”

 

Seongwu stares at the cat, who stares right back at him. “Spoiled brat.”

 

He teaches Minhyun how to make sugar cookie dough. Minhyun carefully adds the ingredients to a large mixing bowl, Seongwu instructing him the whole time. They soon have a consistent dough, of which Seongwu helps Minhyun roll out.

 

“Just do it like this,” he explains, taking the rolling pin from Minhyun.

 

“Where’d you learn to bake sugar cookies?”

 

“Back in the orphanage with the little kids; it’s the first year I can’t make it back,” Seongwu laughs, “I’d have to stop them from eating all the batter before we could actually bake them.”

 

“Orphanage?”

 

“Oh, Jisung didn’t tell you?” Seongwu asks, surprised, now taking out cookie cutters, “I lost my parents in a car accident when I was five, so I stayed in an orphanage for a while. I go back there once a week to check up on all of them.”

 

It finally makes sense as to why Seongwu was always leaving filming early or coming late. He wonders why Jisung never told him, but Minhyun’s heart softens a little at the image of Seongwu baking with the other children. Minhyun goes to help Seongwu with the cookie cutters, placing the candy canes, stars, and gingerbread shapes all onto the baking sheet. They slide it in the oven, and Seongwu sets the timer.

 

“They should be done in ten minutes! While we wait, do you want to decorate the Christmas tree?”

 

Minhyun leads him to the small storage closet, out of  which they pull out a small fake tree. Its leaves are bent in all directions—proof that Minhyun hasn’t used it in a while or t taken good care of it. Minhyun also pulls out a small box labeled “ORNAMENTS,” taking out some for Seongwu to see. Seongwu sighs at Minhyun’s scarce collection, which quite frankly looked sad.

 

“I guess this will have to do. Do you have microwavable popcorn by any chance?”

 

“Actually, I do.”

 

“Good. I’m going to teach you how to string popcorn, because these ornaments just won’t do. Next year, we’re going to go buy some better ones.

 

“Who says there’s going to be a next time?”

 

“I do,” Seongwu huffs, “You need to stop living like the Grinch.”

 

Minhyun learns how to do Christmas the hard way. After fishing through his pantry, Minhyun finds a spool of fishing wire and they microwave the first batch of popcorn. (Seongwu has to stop Minhyun from accidentally microwaving the bag for ten minutes instead of one).

 

Minhyun picks up a hot kernel, and almost instantly crushes it between his fingers. Seongwu laughs at him before passing him another, their fingers accidentally brushing.

 

“You have to wait for it to cool down first.”

 

Seongwu teaches him how to string the pieces onto the wire, and soon enough, Minhyun has a nice popcorn garland. His eyes widen when he ties the final knot, and Seongwu gives him a mock round of applause. His ears turn red, but Minhyun is happy enough.

 

Minhyun also learns how to frost sugar cookies. Seongwu had taught him how to mix the food coloring, and he struggled with getting the frosting into the piping bag. They somehow get through it, Seongwu guiding Minhyun the whole time, and when Minhyun frosts his first snowman, they cheer like little kids.

 

An hour or so passes by, and the tree is finally decorated. Red, green, and white orbs are hung on each leaf, the holiday lights reflecting off of them. They had strung strings of popcorn which now wrap neatly around the lush dark green, and little candy canes and angels were scattered all around. To top it off, a bright yellow star stood at the very top. Each holding a newly-frosted sugar cookie, Minhyun and Seongwu proudly look at their work. Momo even joins in, nestling right between the two of them.

 

“Merry Christmas,” Minhyun whispers. His hand rests upon Seongwu’s, who stares back at him. It’s quiet as the toy train toots along in the background, and neither of them have the power to get up and ruin the moment, ugly Christmas sweaters and all.

 

It’s the first time Minhyun has spent Christmas with someone other than Momo, and it’s the first time he’s not eating a microwave dinner that day as well. Seongwu breaks into a large, satisfied grin.

 

“Let’s do this more often, yeah?”

 

* * *

 

**♫**

 

It’s kind of dumb, Minhyun thinks, to be scared of a bunch of little kids, but Minhyun has always had a knack for falling for dumb things, and it’d be an understatement to say he’s a little anxious about visiting the orphanage.

 

Minhyun watches as the city fades, the train taking him further and further from the safety of his four walls, apartment buildings and city parks covered by trees and a stretch of green. Minhyun waves goodbye to the city and mouths hello to the countryside.

 

The train ride isn’t long, an hour, maybe two at most, and Seongwu has his nose stuck in a book for most of it.

 

Minhyun is glad that Seongwu doesn’t notice the rapid tapping of his foot or how he wipes his hands on his jeans, palms grown slick with sweat, honestly, he would hate to dampen the mood or make Seongwu think that he didn’t want to meet the kids—

 

“I can hear you thinking, Minhyun.”

 

Minhyun looks up to find Seongwu staring down at him with amusement dancing in his eyes, book closed and on his lap.

 

“I’m sorry,” Minhyun pouts, running a hand over his face and cringing at the sweat on his palm—he ignores Seongwu’s breathy laughter. “it’s just—I don’t know.”

 

“It’s just _what_ , Minhyun?” Seongwu probes gently, reaching over to hold Minhyun’s hand in his. Seongwu stares at him with patient eyes, and Minhyun grumbles under his breath. Damn Ong Seongwu and his stupid patience and understanding nature. How was Minhyun expected _not_ to answer Seongwu when the younger was looking at him with that face? “What’s bothering you?”

 

Minhyun looks away, pointedly avoiding Seongwu’s eyes because he knows it’s dumb; he knows that it’s a childish thing to worry about, but he doesn’t know how to stop himself from working out the worst-case-scenarios. “What if the kids don’t like me?”

 

“Minhyun, they’re kids.” Seongwu smiles, and his tone is teasing but his eyes shine with a kind of warmth that comforts Minhyun. Seongwu hums, “Just crack a couple of jokes and let them hang off your back and you’ll be their favorite person in the world.”

 

“Easy for you to say,” Minhyun shoots back, crossing his arms over his chest. If his ears burn red, from both embarrassment and the warmth of Seongwu’s eyes on him, no one has to know. “Not all of us are good in social situations. What if they think I’m a loser?”

 

Seongwu wrinkles his nose, scratching his neck as he bites back a laugh, “Well…”

 

“Hey!” Minhyun whines, slapping Seongwu’s arm with the back of his hand and glaring at the younger when he only bursts into laughter, “I am not a loser!”

 

“Of course you aren’t, Minhyunnie.” Seongwu grins, “You’re just not cool.”

 

Minhyun rolls his eyes, “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Seongwu.”

 

“I promise you, they won’t think you’re a loser,” Seongwu snorts at the last part, and Minhyun just knows that the younger is having the time of his life watching Minhyun die of embarrassment, but he draws comfort from Seongwu’s laughter. He holds onto the sound for as long as he can, committing it to memory, and he listens when Seongwu gently scolds him, “You’re overthinking it. Try not to worry too much, yeah? Life is a little easier when you don’t think about a million things at once.”

 

“Okay, okay, I’ll try.” Minhyun mumbles, and Seongwu takes it as the end of the conversation, going back to his reading after shooting Minhyun one last comforting grin.

 

Minhyun returns to staring out the window, watching as the world moves past him—or is it he who is moving past the world? Whichever it is, Minhyun stares at the clouds until his eyes fall closed, head leaning on the glass and breaths slowing.

 

The last thing Minhyun sees before he falls asleep is Seongwu’s finger folding the corner of a page in his book.

 

(If he has a dream about a man with a constellation on his face and a book in his hands, Minhyun hopes he forgets it the moment he wakes up).

 

The first thing Minhyun sees after he startles awake is Seongwu’s hand—Seongwu’s really big, hand and his long, elegant fingers—, the younger softly patting his cheek.

 

“Rise and shine, Hwang Minhyun,” Seongwu chirps, giddy smile on his lips as he points out the window, “We’re here.”

 

The orphanage, it turns out, is exactly how Minhyun had pictured it in his head. It stands on a little hill, a scene right from a movie—a small, renovated church with a white fence that looks more parts beige than it does white, worn down brick walls, and a rusted, metal rooster that stood on the rooftop, swinging wildly with each passing draft of wind.

 

In its own, odd way, Minhyun finds it beautiful.

 

“Seongwu hyung!” the kids shout immediately upon seeing Seongwu, jumping onto him and smothering him with hugs. Seongwu laughs, complaining of suffocating, but Minhyun doesn’t miss how he hugs them back just as tightly, the smile on his face growing with each kid he holds in his arms.

 

“You guys act like I wasn’t just here last week!”

 

“It’s not the same without you, though,” one of the kids objects, clinging to his leg.

 

It takes a second for the kids to look past their favorite hyung and notice the stranger, but once they _do_ notice Minhyun, a chorus of questions echo, and a kid asks, “Seongwu hyung, who’s this?”

 

The kids turn around to Minhyun, who immediately gulps under their stares.

 

“He’s a very special friend of mine,” Seongwu smiles, and Minhyun forces himself not to blush under the curious eyes of a dozen little kids. Seongwu hums, “His name is Minhyun.”

 

“Is this the guy you’re always talking about?” one of the older kids asks, smiling knowingly at Seongwu. “The composer?”

 

Minhyun arches an eyebrow, and he stares at Seongwu with a please smile, the younger ignoring him.

 

“Yeri, please be quiet.”

 

“So it _is_ the composer guy!” a little boy says, running up to Minhyun and craning his head up to stare up at him, “Woah, you’re so tall!”

 

Seongwu chuckles, and he messes up the boy’s hair, coaxing him into giving Minhyun some space, “He can also play the piano really well.”

 

“Really?” the kids ask, suddenly interested in the new stranger, “He can?”

 

They look to Minhyun for an explanation, all wide-eyed curiosity and welcoming smiles.

 

“Uh, yeah, I can, kind of?” he chokes out.

 

The excitement that follows is explosive, “Woah! That’s so cool!”

 

Seongwu laughs behind his fist, and Minhyun glares at him.

 

“Come on, guys. He’s really good!” Seongwu sing-songs, a child holding onto each of his hands as he walks into the orphanage. He looks back at Minhyun with a smile that says _I told you so_ , “Let’s ask Minhyunnie to play the piano for us, yeah?”

 

Minhyun shoots him a glare which Seongwu chooses to ignore, and follows him to the piano anyways.

 

He takes a deep breath. Under the eyes of the little kids, he still finds himself nervous. He hasn’t played the piano in years, and he looks up to search for Seongwu’s face in the small crowd, who gives him an encouraging nod. And with that, Minhyun turns, closing his eyes, trying to remember all of the songs that he used to play on the piano when he was a kid.

 

Minhyun plays all the songs he thinks the kids might know on the orphanage’s old piano, smiling when the kids clap along and stare as his hands move up and down the keys in wonder.

 

Seongwu has gone off to help around the other parts of the orphanage, cleaning, maybe, or checking in on the older kids, the teenagers that don’t find Minhyun as interesting as the younger ones do, and Minhyun is left to entertain the kids.

 

“Are you in love with Seongwu oppa?” the little girl asks him, her eyes wide with wonder. Minhyun pauses, taking his hands off the keys, and he breathes out a long sigh. The other kids gather around, waiting for his answer.

 

“I really don’t know,” Minhyun admits. He questions why he’s telling little kids about his love life, but he continues to do so anyways. “Love is a weird thing to me.”

 

“Well, Seongwu hyung loves you very much,” one of them pipes up, voice more matter-of-fact than anything. “Whenever he comes back, he always talks about you.”

 

“He does?” Minhyun asks, partially surprised, but mostly curious. He leans closer to the child, eager to hear more despite himself, “What does he say?”

 

“He talks so much about you that there’s no way to pinpoint one thing! He always talks about your cat though and how ‘endearing’, whatever that word means, it is when you smile.” the child grimaces, pretending to throw up in his mouth, and Minhyun smiles at the action, finding it very Seongwu-like.

 

“It’s so gross, too! His eyes get all lovey dovey looking, and he has a stupid grin on his face. He looks like a man in love,” another child finishes with a toothy grin, and murmurs of agreements come forth.

 

Minhyun doesn’t know what to do with the information, it feels intrusive and wrong, maybe, to be told what Seongwu says about him when he isn’t around. Yet somehow, he finds himself smiling.

 

Perhaps he found Seongwu a little bit cuter—

 

_Pause. What the hell was he thinking?_

 

When did he start finding Seongwu cute in the first place? When did he start caring about what Seongwu had to say about him? Was it when they first met and talked about Eminem, or was it when he choked and Seongwu saved his life? Frankly he didn’t know the answer, and more importantly did he _want_ to know the answer?  

 

“... Do you love Seongwu hyung?” A child’s voice knocks him out of his thoughts, and he blinks at the child.

 

Love is a word full of promises and it involves so much responsibility. Could he handle such a heavy burden?

 

For Seongwu, Minhyun decides, he would.

 

“Yeah.” Minhyun nods, more to himself than to the kids. “I think so, anyways, but you can’t tell him! Let’s keep it a secret, okay?” He puts a finger to his lips in a shushing motion and the kids seem to understand what he’s getting at.

 

Minhyun knows he’s truly screwed at this point.  

 

* * *

 

☎

**YJS:** hwang minhyun

 **YJS:** hwang minhyun, i know you’re reading this.

 **YJS:** don’t give me any excuses lmao i know that your vision is perfectly fine.

**HMH:** ...what do you want?

 **HMH:** and how did you know i was ignoring you?

**YJS:** dumbass...your read receipts are on. who’s the real hag now?

**HMH:** uhhh anyways

**YJS:** that’s not a way to greet the guy who’s agreed to pay for your rent for the next two years.

 **YJS:** i’m hungry. we haven’t had a “bro-to-bro” talk in forever. and i’m craving hamburgers. do you want to go with me?

**HMH:** sure.

 **HMH:** but never say “bro-to-bro” every again. please.

“We haven’t caught up lately outside of filming,” Jisung says, the two of them sitting down at the table, “So, tell me, what’s up with you these days?”

A few hours ago, Jisung had called Minhyun, suggesting that the two of them go out and eat to discuss “the good old times.” Minhyun, who didn’t have any plans because Seongwu was busy, agreed to go.

“Just the same old,” Minhyun shrugs nonchalantly, picking up his burger.  Jisung raises an eyebrow at his response.

“You’re hiding something.”

“Am _not_ ,” Minhyun says nonchalantly, “I’m perfectly fine.”

Jisung doesn’t pester him about it anymore for a while, the two of them eating their dinners in peace. But, as soon as he finishes, Jisung leans forward.

“You’re starting to fall for Seongwu, is that what it is?”

Minhyun chokes on his milkshake, and Jisung guffaws in response, leaning forward to snatch a fry from his plate.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Is it?” Jisung muses, sipping on his own shake, “I mean, yeah, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see the way you look at him on set.”

“I do _not_!”

“You _do_.”

They hold a glaring contest for a short while, Minhyun glowering and Jisung with a large smirk. Minhyun eventually loses (he’s not very good at keeping his eyes open for long amounts of time), and admits defeat when his head falls onto the table, and Jisung cheers.

“I _am_ surprised though,” Jisung adds, “Even back in high school, I remember you were never attracted to anyone, and you didn’t even get into a single relationship.”

Minhyun glares at the other, who now has a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, fully aware that he was correct. Minhyun slumps back in his seat and puts his head in his hands.

“This is _not_ what I was planning for when I agreed to help you out,” Minhyun groans. Jisung shrugs.

“I mean, you can’t necessarily predict catching feelings,” he offers, and Minhyun silently agrees.

“So, tell me. What exactly made you fall for him?”

“I actually don’t know,” Minhyun answers, “I really don’t. Hell, I don’t even know _when_ I started feeling this way.”

Minhyun’s lying to himself, and he knows it. His inner voice even calls himself out.

_“You were literally heads over heels when you saw him take care of those little kids,”_ it argues, _“Let’s not forget when you were weak to the knees whenever he smiles. Hwang Minhyun, you, my friend, are undeniably whipped.”_

Minhyun shoves his inner voice to the side.

“Intriguing,” Jisung nods, eating another fry, “I’m sure there’s something about him that made you fall for him, and you just aren’t being honest with yourself yet.”

“Please don’t tell him,” Minhyun begs.

“I won’t, I won’t. I’m curious to see how this plays out.”

“By the way, are you gonna finish that?” Jisung asks, eyeing Minhyun’s plate. Minhyun rolls his eyes, sliding the plate of food over to Jisung, who happily finishes it

“Just _how_ exactly did you meet Seongwu?” Minhyun asks. Jisung chuckles, shaking his head.

“I knew you were going to ask this eventually. I actually didn’t meet him; _he_ met _me_.”

“I met Seongwu back in Canada,” Jisung explains, “He was attending the same university as me. We knew of eachother but didn’t get close until one day, he and his friends were planning on pranking a senior with a water bucket, but they hit me instead.”

Minhyun laughs. He can already imagine university student Seongwu getting chased around campus by a drenched Jisung.

“He was still a rookie actor, but he worked really hard,” Jisung muses, “I remember when he worked like four part time jobs just to continue acting. When I was given this offer, he was the first one I called.”

Jisung pulls out his phone, scrolling through his camera roll before he places it on the table for Minhyun to see. It’s a picture of Jisung back in college with a group of friends. He spots Jisung instantly with his silver hair.

“Seongwu is the one in the striped red and yellow shirt.”

Minhyun’s eyes look for who Jisung is describing, and he notices the boy in the far right of the picture. He’s got a lopsided grin, thick round glasses that are way too big for his face, and he’s cheesily holding up a peace sign with the rest.

“What?! That’s him?”

“It’s surprising, right?” Jisung laughs, “He looked like a total dork. But man, as soon as he got on the stage,” he pauses, whistling, “The man really stole hearts.”

“He’s a good guy, he’s really been through a lot,” Jisung sighs, staring at the picture, “So, I say he’s a pretty good choice as your first love.”

“Don’t word it like that,” Minhyun groans, “You make me sound like a lovelorn teenager.”

“Isn’t that what you are?”

“Jisung, I’m 25.”

 

* * *

 

 

**☎**

 

**HMH:** uh jisung have you seen my cat anywhere

 

**YJS:** what makes you think i’d know where your cat is?

**YJS:** try seongwu, he’d be more of help

 

**HMH:** i don’t know, i’m freaking out LOLOLOLOL

**HMH:** okay

 

**HMH:** seongwu

**HMH:** i don’t usually ask people for help, but this time i do

 

**OSW:** hey omg sorry i just woke up, is everything alright?

 

**HMH:** uh not really

**HMH:** can you come to my place asap

 

**OSW:** i’ll be there in ten

 

☂

 

Minhyun has lost many things in the span of his life. He’s lost wallets, his car keys; you name it, and he’s once had it disappear from his sight. But he has never,  _ ever _ lost his cat. He woke up, his furry friend nowhere to be found. 

 

He knows not to panic right away. He checked every nook and cranny that Momo tends to reside in; from the recycling bin to the kitchen cabinets. He calls out Momo’s name, but still doesn’t get a response. 

 

His mind starts to race. What if someone kidnapped his cat? Did Momo somehow die and the angels took him up to heaven? Did Jisung come in when he was sleeping to take care of the cat? They all seemed plausible to him at the time. 

 

He’s interrupted by his doorbell ringing, and without thinking, he swings it open to greet none other than Seongwu.

 

He looks like he just rolled out of bed, wearing grey sweatpants and a dark blue pullover, and a black beanie covering his hair. Minhyun would’ve taken the time to check him out if he wasn’t freaking out over his missing pet. 

 

“Hey,” Seongwu starts, “You called?” His smile immediately vanished and paused as soon as he saw Minhyun’s devastated face.

 

“Wait, what’s the matter?”

 

“Momo’s missing!” Minhyun frantically replies, before heading back inside. Seongwu lets himself in again, and Minhyun runs around his apartment. He lifts up couch pillows, throwing them around the room, and Seongwu watches him panic. 

 

“He couldn’t have gone through the windows; I always make sure to lock them! I know I do! And Momo isn’t the type of cat to run away!”

 

“Minhyun,” Seongwu calls out calmly.

 

Minhyun doesn’t hear him, and continues to talk aloud as he keeps searching.

 

“And I know that he gets scared in the rain! Dear God, what if he’s just in some alleyway about to get thrown into the pound again?” Minhyun says, the pitch in his voice raising a little higher, “Oh my God, what am I going to-”

 

“Minhyun!”

 

Minhyun finally looks up. He’s almost about to burst into tears at this point. 

 

“Let’s go outside and try to find him,” Seongwu sighs, “Just take a deep breath; I’ll go with you. I’m sure he’s not too far away.”

 

☂

 

“Momo?” Minhyun calls out, “Momo, are you here?”

 

Him and Seongwu go outside together into the rain searching for the missing feline. They scour everywhere; from the trees to the back alleyways, they continue to yell the cat’s name, but never get a response. They’ve spent almost an hour or so looking before a large clap of thunder interrupts their search, and Seongwu looks up at the darkening sky. 

 

“Oh, great. Here comes the rain.”

 

They find shelter under a convenience store. It’s pouring hard now, and not a single person is out on the streets. Seongwu stares out and sighs. 

 

“I don’t think the rain is going to stop anytime soon.”

 

Minhyun squats down, and Seongwu joins him.

 

“What if Momo is just out there in the rain, waiting for us to find him?” Minhyun says in the quietest voice possible, “I-I really don’t know what I could do without him. He’s a brat, but he’s been with me these last five years. He was my only friend.”

 

“We’ll find him,” Seongwu reassures the other, placing a gentle hand on his back, “I promise we will. Maybe we’ll have better luck when the rain passes. Someone’s bound to find him. You left your phone number and address on his bell, didn’t you?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Then we shouldn’t worry too much. Momo will come back eventually.”

 

Minhyun mumbles a quiet “ _ I guess so _ ,” and Seongwu chuckles to himself. The two of them are quiet as they watch the rain fall.

 

“It’s just,” Minhyun says out loud, breaking the silence, “Momo was my only sense of security for a while. I kind of lost myself over the past five years, and, well, he was my only company then. It just feels weird without him there.”

 

“You have me now,” Seongwu whispers. 

 

For what seems like forever, it’s silent between them, the only sound being the rain pattering above them. They don’t break eye contact, and somehow they find themselves coming closer and closer together. 

 

Seongwu: he’s confident, bold, and dashing, while Minhyun is plain, quiet, and awkward. Just like Seongwu has a way with words, Minhyun is a mess with them. They’re opposite magnets that somehow, against all logic, are attracted to each other. 

 

“Can I…” Seongwu continues in a voice so quiet that Minhyun almost misses it, “Can I kiss you?”

 

At first, Seongwu is afraid that Minhyun didn’t hear him, but his thoughts are interrupted as Minhyun whispers back a response.

 

“Yes.”

 

It’s slow. It’s unlike their first kiss, full of desperation and lasting regrets, but this time, it’s steady and at ease. Minhyun wants to pinch himself to see if this is finally happening; but he’s so afraid that it’s a dream that he stays put. It’s not rushed, but instead, it’s a slow rhythm that reminds Minhyun of a slow waltz. They finally separate, Minhyun’s cheeks a dangerous red and Seongwu laughs. 

 

“You do know this isn’t the first time we’ve kissed right?” Seongwu asks him. Minhyun blinks not once, but twice.

 

“Huh?”

 

“You know that one time you got drunk and I brought you home? You kissed me then.”

 

“That doesn’t count,” Minhyun argues, “This time, I’m sober. And I actually mean it, too.”

 

“You  _ mean it _ ?” Seongwu asks, a look of amusement evident on his face. Minhyun groans.

 

“Okay, fine. I, Hwang Minhyun, think that I havecaughtfeelingsforyou. Ilikeyou. More than I probably should. Is that a good enough explanation?” Minhyun quickly says, catching his breath after talking so quickly. Seongwu finds this even funnier. 

 

“Yeah. Ihavecaughtfeelingsforyoutoo,” he says in the same tone, and Minhyun whacks him on the shoulder. 

 

After what seems like forever, the rain finally ceases, the clouds clear up, and the sun is back in view. Minhyun and Seongwu make it back to his apartment. As soon as they’ve dried themselves off from the rain, Momo comes stalking back with a triumphant smile, as if he planned this all along. 

 

“Momo?! You were here this whole time?” Minhyun exclaims, “I didn’t have to go outside for nothing! You little-” 

 

A smaller, female cat peeks out behind the grey cat. Its orange fur is soaked from the rain, but as soon as Momo goes over and licks its ears, Minhyun puts two and two together. 

 

Momo went out to visit his lover, who was still in the alley during the rainstorm. 

 

“Oh my god, Momo,” Minhyun scolds the cat, “You never told me you had a girlfriend! As your owner, I should know about these things!”

 

Momo tilts his head, with wide green eyes, his mouth quivering and his little ears slightly drooping. He nudges the female cat, before letting out a large whine. Minhyun knows this look; it’s the same begging that Momo does when he wants to have a second can of tuna. He sighs.

 

“Momo, I can barely keep track of you! How do you expect me to take care of your girlfriend while I’m at it?”

 

Momo just lets out another whine, and Minhyun pinches the bridge of his nose. Seongwu crouches down to the female cat, scratching the back of her ears.

 

“I’ll take her in.”

 

This takes both Minhyun and Momo by surprise. They look at Seongwu, who’s surprised to see their shocked faces. 

 

“What?” he says, picking up the cat, “She reminds me of a stray cat I took care of when I was a kid. I’ll name her Mimi.”

 

The orange cat mews in approval to the new name, licking Seongwu’s finger. Seongwu chuckles at this. 

 

“Minhyun, you and your cat both have a lover now..”

 

It suddenly grows awkward in between them. They merely stare at each other until Seongwu realizes what he just said, trying to retract.

 

“I mean, uh,” he starts, suddenly getting bashful, “I guess, like, kind of? He’s the reason why we went outside, and like, uh, arekindofathingIthink, yeah.”

 

Minhyun blinks at him, losing everything that he had just said.

 

“Can you please put everything you just said into Korean?”

 

And for the first time, Minhyun sees Ong Seongwu uncomposed and undeniably nervous.  Seongwu looks down at the ground, his voice inaudibly small.

 

“Hwang Minhyun, as cheesy as it sounds, would you like to uh, be the Mimi to my Momo?”

 

Minhyun doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the cheesy proposal, but what he does know is his answer to the question.

 

“Yes, Seongwu, I’ll gladly be the Mimi to your Momo...but why am I the girl? For God’s sake, Momo is  _ my _ cat!”

 

It’s quiet for a moment as Seongwu processes what Minhyun just said, but is soon followed with a fit of laughter. 

 

“It doesn’t matter now,” Seongwu shrugs, a cheeky yet satisfied grin plastered on his face, “I guess you’re mine now.”

 

Minhyun doesn’t say anything, but the hand that intertwines with Seongwu is enough of an answer for both of them. 


	5. bridge and finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fin.

"The future is not a straight line. There are many different pathways. We must try to decide that future for ourselves."

\- Kikyo, _Inuyasha_

 

* * *

 

 

☎

 

**OSW:** hey, jisung, have you seen minhyun anywhere? just finished filming and i can’t find him…

 

**YJS:** have you tried his studio? he always goes there whenever he’s alone.

 

**OSW** : huh..i never knew that. thanks again!

 

Minhyun knows he’s being extremely petty. He sulks and stares at his piano. He’s not supposed to feel this way; Seongwu is literally the most reassuring and kind person he knows, but there’s still a voice in the back of his head that says otherwise.

 

_ “He looks so good with her!” _ the voice rambles on,  _ “I mean, they’re literally an ideal couple! Minhyun, you’ve got nothing on her!” _

 

_ “And look at the way he  _ **_looks_ ** _ at her! That’s got to be true love!” _

 

“Is everything alright?” Seongwu asks him. Minhyun averts his gaze, avoiding making eye contact with the other.

 

“It just feels weird,” Minhyun grumbles, “I know you aren’t a thing with the actress, it just…”

 

Seongwu chuckles at this. Minhyun huffs at his reaction.

 

“Hwang Minhyun, am I hearing that you’re jealous?”

 

“Me?” Minhyun snorts, crossing his arms in defense, “No. Why should I be? She’s just an actress. She isn’t even that good anyways!”

 

“You’re  _ so _ jealous.”

 

“And what if I am?” Minhyun shoots back, “I mean, the two of you look great together in front of a camera.”

 

“It’s just an act, remember that,” Seongwu reminds him, taking Minhyun’s hands into his. They’re quiet as they stare back at each other. “When I’m with you, though, everything is real.”

 

They share a sweet kiss, Seongwu caressing his face, Minhyun closing his eyes. It’s a reassuring feeling that what they have is indeed real and not a picture-perfect idea that someone had written out for them.

 

♫

 

And for the first time in five years, Minhyun sits down on the piano bench. It’s still in the same shape as he left it all those years ago. Running his hands on the keys is a familiar feeling that he hasn’t experienced in a while, and it almost sends shocks up his spine as soon as he sits down. The piano welcomes him back, and Minhyun swallows as he presses down on the first keys. They greet him with the familiar tune, and he taps at his earpiece once again. 

 

The memories from the last couple months start flooding back to him. From the start to the end, they all replay in his mind. 

 

Minhyun adjusts the sheet music that he had quickly put together, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. 

 

“Here goes nothing.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

**☎**

 

**OSW:** jisung wants us there in thirty minutes

 

**HMH:** i know, i’m almost ready. (ps: i went to the store earlier and got your favorite chips. you can eat some while you’re waiting.)

 

**OSW** : love you

 

**HMH** : <3

 

♫

 

His suit is almost too small for him now; he takes a mental note to buy a new one soon. 

Minhyun adjusts his tie, staring at his reflection in the mirror. 

 

A few months ago, he never would’ve thought that he’d be wearing one again. He’s learned to enjoy life more and view it more as a gift than anything. Now, he’s became good friends with the other actors and actresses, even being the one to take initiative and ask them to hang out. He and Jisung still go on their daily food outings whenever Seongwu is back at the orphanage, and his taste buds are now more refined than they were before when he only ate toast. He enjoys the small things in life. and he wouldn’t be able to do it without Seongwu. Momo seems to think the same, leaping up to Minhyun’s dresser and staring at his owner. 

 

A soft knock interrupts his thoughts.

 

“Are you almost ready?” Seongwu grins, walking from the doorway.

 

He’s changed into a black suit with a white button down. It’s a timeless look that Minhyun could never grow tired of, from the comma hairstyle that falls right before Seongwu’s eyes, and the small smile that plays on his lips.

 

“You look good,” Minhyun compliments him.  Minhyun and him share a chaste kiss. 

 

“I could say the same to you,” Seongwu replies. Mimi comes walking in right behind him, and Momo jumps down to greet her. Seongwu laughs at the two cats, and a small smile finds its way to Minhyun’s face. 

 

“Oh, shoot,” Seongwu says, his eyes widening as he checked his watch, “I didn’t realize that we ran out of so much time. We only have eight minutes until we’re supposed to meet at the restaurant.”

 

“Here,” Minhyun offers, grabbing his car keys from the desk, “I’ll drive.”

 

♫

 

To celebrate the end of filming Down to Earth, Jisung had invited everyone to some fancy Italian restaurant (much to Seongwu’s liking, because he had been raving about lasagna for quite some time now). Seongwu and Minhyun pull up to the restaurant to find the others already there waiting for them. 

 

“I can’t believe we’re finally finished!” Somi exclaims. 

 

“I know, it seemed like we would never be done,” agreed Mina, “It was fun, though!”

 

“So,” Daniel asks the couple, “What’s your relationship status? Surely, you’re not just friends.”

 

“You aren’t the first to tell us that,” Seongwu laughs, turning to Minhyun, “I don’t know, if I’m being honest myself. Minhyun, what’s your answer to Daniel?”

 

Before Minhyun can answer, Jisung stands up, tapping a fork onto his wine glass, and everyone quickly quiets down to turn to him. He clears his throat, now speaking again.

 

“We have finally reached the end of filming ‘Down to Earth,’” Jisung starts, “And let’s face it; this project was definitely no easy task. But, it couldn’t have been completed without us all working together.”

 

“A huge round of applause to Ong Seongwu, Kang Mina, and the rest of the actors…”

 

Seongwu and the others stand up as the others applaud, and Jisung continues talking. Minhyun and Seongwu exchange an all-knowing look with each other, and Minhyun flashes him a quick thumbs up, to which Seongwu mouths  _ thank you _ .

 

“And many thanks to the backstage crew for making this all possible.”

 

Minhyun zones out for a while until a certain phrase leaves Jisung’s mouth. 

 

“...And a special shoutout to my dear friend, Hwang Minhyun.”

 

Minhyun chokes on his meatball at the sudden recognition, all eyes now on him. 

 

“Well, at least I know you heard me,” Jisung smiles, and everyone laughs along.

 

“ _ Me _ ?” Minhyun asks, almost incredulously, “I didn’t even do much! All I did was write the song!”

 

“ _ Please _ ,” Jisung snorted, “You did so much more than that. You brought the whole cast together, look! We’re a family now!”

 

Minhyun looks around at the smiling faces. 

 

“Let’s hear a speech!” Jisung proposes, and starts chanting, and soon enough, everyone’s joining in.

 

“Speech, speech, speech!”

 

Minhyun turns to Seongwu, who merely grins, gently pushing his boyfriend to stand on the table. 

 

“What’re you waiting for?”

 

Minhyun climbs onto the table, trying his best to not trip over the tablecloth. It reminds him of the way he’d get shy back in high school during presentations. The familiar feeling of nervousness starts to sink in, and he frantically turns to his boyfriend. Seongwu gives him an encouraging smile, mouthing “ _ You can do this, _ ” and somehow unnerves all of his fears. 

 

“Uh, before I say this impromptu speech,” Minhyun starts, “I’d like to finally be open to the whole cast now that I’m standing in front of you.

 

“I used to write a lot more music back in the day, but,” he cuts himself off, the words stuck in his throat. Scratching the back of his neck, he stops looking down at his shoes and finally looks at his audience, “How exactly do I word this? 

 

“A few years ago, I was told that I was losing my hearing. Not temporarily either, but for good. I fled into hiding and locked myself in my apartment away from the world, and I probably would’ve still been there if it wasn’t for Jisung dragging me back into music.

 

“I’d like to thank my, um,” he pauses, “boyfriend, Ong Seongwu for showing me all of the beautiful parts in life that I had forgotten about.” As soon as he brought the word  _ boyfriend _ , Daniel yells a triumphant, “I  _ knew _ it!”, and everyone laughs along.

 

“So, thank you, really, for everything,” Minhyun finishes, raising his glass, and everyone follows him, “Though I might lose my hearing, I’m glad I gained you guys as my friends. Here’s to new beginnings and ends.”

 

“To new beginnings and ends,” they chorus, all bringing the wine to their lips. Minhyun once again makes eye contact with Seongwu, his eyes glittering with pride. Minhyun feels his cheeks turning a dangerous red, coughing and settling back down. 

 

“I’m proud of you,” Seongwu whispers, squeezing his hand under the table. Minhyun mumbles an embarrassed “ _ thanks _ ,” and Seongwu laughs, the two of them focusing back on their food. 

  
  


♫ 

 

**ONE YEAR LATER**

 

If you asked who Hwang Minhyun was and what happened to him a year ago, people would shrug their heads and sigh, recalling about how the great composer suddenly disappeared into thin air. But, if you asked now, their eyes would light up, and they would tell you how Hwang Minhyun came out of his prolonged hiatus and was indeed back, and this time, created a song for Yoon Jisung’s new drama, “Down to Earth,” starring the dreamy-eyed actor Ong Seongwu. “Down to Earth” ended up being nominated and winning several different awards for the beautiful dynamics, and Hwang Minhyun even won “Composer of the Year.”

 

With a quick smile, they’d ask if you knew that Ong Seongwu and Hwang Minhyun had just announced that they were dating to the public, to which everyone was more than enthusiastic to accept with open arms. 

 

It was springtime. Seoul was in full bloom, with birds singing merrily and flowers scattered throughout the streets. 

 

Jisung was back at the small cafe, to where he now had the pleasure of becoming a mentor to Lee Daehwi, the boy who had served him exactly a year ago. Jisung had given Daehwi a shot at stardom, to which the boy had also skyrocketed in popularity. He smiles as he once again eats a cranberry scone, of which Daehwi now treats him to. 

 

“Who knew that the random man who came that morning is now my director?” joke Daehwi.

 

“Who knew that I found the next big thing in the entertainment industry?” Jisung teases back, his mouth still full of scone, “It’s funny how things work out.”

 

And even though he’s lost his sense of hearing, Ong Seongwu had became Minhyun’s ears. The two of them were blissfully happy, and were currently in Minhyun’s studio together.  They learned sign language together, Seongwu giving him a thumbs up whenever Minhyun struck the keys and made a good tune, and thumbs down when he didn’t. It became their daily routine; Minhyun would coop himself up in his little room, and after work, Seongwu would pop in with a small bag of takeout, and the two would share their alone time.

 

_ I love you, _ Seongwu gestured with his hands, to which Minhyun smiled, his eyes crinkling back. He turned back to his piano. 

 

And though Minhyun had now fully lost his sense of hearing, there was a song that he could never forget; one that stayed with him for the rest of time. 

 

And that itself was all he needed.

 

**Our Screenplay: Original Sound Track for “Down to Earth”**

 

_ Written and Composed by Hwang Minhyun _

 

_ Dedicated to the ‘light of his life’, Ong Seongwu. _

 

END.

 

♡

**Author's Note:**

> oh my, here we go.  
> first and foremost, i cannot believe i finally finished this. i was sweating for a while, but i really wanted to put everything i had into this fic, as my last one for the year of 2018.  
> i've had a lot of fun writing this! this is actually the (second?) time i've written onghwang, so it was a huge leap for me. a huge thanks to my betas for really helping me finish this. you guys rock!
> 
> i hope you guys enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing it. huge thanks again to snowfox for the festival and the prompt!


End file.
